Strokes of Colored Grey
by Elfpen
Summary: ObiWan has been drawing since he was a small youngling, but only a few people know, including his teacher, Vianro Dleka, and the elderly, trustworthy archivist, KinWan Terius. But what happens when his master discovers his secret? COMPLETE!
1. Cat's Out of the Bag

Title: Strokes of Colored Grey

Summary: Obi-Wan has been drawing since he was a small youngling, but only a few people know, including his teacher, Vianro Dleka, and the elderly, trustworthy archivist, Kin-Wan Terius. And when Vianro accidentally lets Qui-Gon in on what was supposed to be a secret, Obi-Wan finds himself with a bit of explaining to do, And Qui-Gon is in for a reality check. JA era.

Author: Elfpen

* * *

Obi-Wan bit his lip, glancing at the door. He prayed his master wouldn't choose to walk in right now. Force, not _now_! Stone still, he held his breath as he 'watched' his master's movements through the door. To his relief, Qui-Gon filed past his room casually, and walked into his own. Obi-Wan's shoulders relaxed as he let out his breath. He then silently turned his attention back to the pad of paper situated on his desk. Pencils of varying shades of grey and black littered his work area, eraser fragments covering the dark wooden surface like confetti. 

Obi-Wan bit his lip harder as he thought what might have happened if Qui-Gon _had_ chosen to come in at that particular moment. What would his master have done? Would Obi-Wan somehow have been able to hide it all from sight? Would Qui-Gon notice? If he did notice, what would he say? By the force, what would Qui-Gon do when he learned that his apprentice's sleepless nights were spent mulling over paper and pencil?

Obi-Wan sighed, gripping the pencil in his hand harder. Ever since he was a young child, he needed some vent for creativity. Some vent for his feelings and emotions. Yes, he knew he was supposed to release them into the force, but sometimes… Sometimes he just couldn't. Either the emotion was too strong, or it was… Pleasant. Sometimes he just couldn't let it go.

Obi-Wan had been drawing for years, now. His work had noticeably improved over the past years, even though he was the only one to see it. He spent hours of his free time cooped up in his room with a pencil and paper, mainly when Qui-Gon was away at a council meeting, or something of the sort. He had only told one person in the entire temple about his art, and that person, he was sure, would never deliberately tell anyone else.

Now, just over fourteen years of age, he sat, venting out his emotions and feelings on a piece of paper. This particular piece had been in the works for quite some time now – it was the first piece he started after Melida/Daan, and he was determined to make this his best piece. He had spent month in and month out sketching, shading, erasing, and redoing soft strokes of gray, and he was finally ready for the finishing touches.

His probation had ended just a few days ago. Qui-Gon had accepted him as his apprentice again, much to Obi-Wan's utter joy and relief. But he was still a bit unsure of how to rebuild the relationship between he and his master. Really, there wasn't one to begin with. He had no remaining pieces of a bond, and he didn't have the slightest idea of how to start one. He adored Qui-Gon, yes, he admired, he respected and honored him, he loved him, even, but Qui-Gon didn't seem to notice. Trying to get this message through to his master was like trying to get through locked door without a key. He had knocked kindly, to no avail. He had tried picking the lock – that didn't work. He had tried subtly persuading the occupant inside to unlock the door – that didn't work either. He had nearly reached the point of pounding the door down, but he knew that he would cross a forbidden barrier, then. So he kept his distance respectively. But inside, his longing for the closeness of a father and son was still smoldering away inside. He glanced down at the sketch that was nearly done. He gulped. It was a sketch that he prayed Qui-Gon would _never _find. Jedi weren't supposed to wish in vain. Jedi weren't supposed to indulge in fantastical daydreams. But that was just what this was. Obi-Wan looked down at his sketchpad, tears forming in his eyes. It was a factless fantasy.

* * *

"Qui-Gon!" Jedi Master Vianro Dleka wove her tall, willowy frame through the masses of Jedi crowding the halls of the temple, headed for Qui-Gon Jinn. Qui-Gon turned around at the call, and waited patiently for Vianro to reach him. 

"Yes?" He asked, after she had reached him.

"You are Padawan Kenobi's Master, yes?" She asked, her musical voice floating across the room. Master Dleka was an Oma-Auri, a type humanoid that, physically, was nearly identical to humans. Really, they were humans, with a few… Alterations. Oma-Auri were very long-lived beings, and, despite their lengthy lifespans (which could reach anywhere from two to seven hundred years) stayed very youthful in appearance throughout their lives. But, they were definitively not perfect creatures. They almost always suffered from poor or even completely lost vision and/or hearing. Qui-Gon knew Master Dleka personally, and unfortunately, she had both poor hearing and sight – though the Force aided her a small amount.

"Yes, Obi-Wan is my padawan. Is something wrong, Master Dleka?" He asked. Vianro Dleka was Obi-Wan's teacher for arts and linguistics. Qui-Gon casually eyed a few folders which she held, and wondered if Obi-Wan had done something wrong.

"No, nothing wrong, Master Jinn, but I would like to talk to you. Come, let us find a quieter place." With a light nod, Vianro turned and gracefully made her way to one of the numerous gardens that lay in and around the Temple.

Once inside the deserted garden, Vianro quietly directed Qui-Gon to a small clearing, where they could sit and talk in private. As she sat down, she placed the folders on her lap. Qui-Gon sat down slowly, eyeing her still.

"If nothing is wrong, why did you wish to speak with me?" Qui-Gon asked. Master Dleka nodded slightly, understanding his confusion.

"I simply wanted to talk to you about Obi-Wan. To get to know him. He is very quiet in class, normally, and I just wanted to get to know my new students better." She paused, as if reading an invisible note that only she could see. "Oh!" She exclaimed, reaching into one of her folders. "And to give you this." She handed Qui-Gon a small, folded card. Qui-Gon knew it was a grade report at first glance. He unfolded it and read it quickly. All of the scores were perfectly acceptable, and probably above average, but were not astronomically high. Nodding in approval, he folded it back up and slid it into his belt pocket. The expectancy in his eyes signaled Vianro to continue.

"Obi-Wan is a very bright boy, Qui-Gon. Very quiet, but very bright. He-"

"Quiet?" Qui-Gon cut in, "He doesn't seem that quiet." Vianro seemed surprised.

"Really? He must be different for you, then. He barely ever speaks in class, unless I specifically ask him to. But when he does speak, it is very intriguing. He is a very interesting boy. Smart, kind, diligent… Though I must admit, Master Jinn…" She paused, and Qui-Gon cocked an eyebrow up after a moment of silence.

With a sigh, Vianro tilted her head to the left slightly, her board straight, smooth brown hair falling over her shoulders.

"He seems very insecure. I've gotten a few chances to speak with him, and he seems lacking in confidence. He is also very reserved. More reserved than can be healthy for a boy of his age." Vianro stopped there, gauging Qui-Gon's reaction.

"Insecure?" Qui-Gon asked, a deep frown on his face. He never thought of Obi-Wan as_ insecure. _Much less as 'lacking in confidence'. He had always shown great skill and confidence in saber classes, at least.

Master Dleka nodded. "Yes. Enough to make me ask about it." She said this plainly, and was waiting for Qui-Gon to recognize the underlying question. When he said nothing, she gave a slight sigh and carried on. "Does Obi-Wan enjoy art, Master Jinn?" She asked, thinking she was asking an easy-to-answer question.

Qui-Gon shrugged. "I really don't know. I haven't really spoken to him about it."

Vianro did her best to hide her surprise. _He doesn't even know that his padawan enjoys art? Does he not know? _"Oh. Well, I thought he might, considering how talented an artist he is. I absolutely love the artwork he drew for the-"

"Wait," Qui-Gon stopped her, very confused. "What are you talking about? I'm afraid I don't understand.

Master Dleka seemed taken aback. "You mean you don't know? You haven't seen?"

Qui-Gon frowned, confused. "Know what? _Seen _what?"

Vianro seemed to grow more and more shocked as the moment went by. "Obi-Wan… He draws – Surely, Master Qui-Gon, you jest. You must know. You are his master, after all."

Qui-Gon's frown deepened. Was it so surprising that Obi-Wan drew? Was it so surprising that Qui-Gon 'didn't know'? An image of Obi-Wan doodling idly on a page popped into his mind. "Well, I wasn't aware he enjoyed it that much, but… Is it so uncommon for children to draw?" He asked.

Another frustrating moment passed as Master Dleka stared at Qui-Gon, her long neck frozen in place.

"Have you ever seen his work?" she asked, almost laughing because of her surprise.

Qui-Gon grit his teeth as he sensed the amazement in Vianro. What did she mean by 'work'? "Well, no. I did not know he _had _'work'." Qui-Gon replied, still quite lost.

Again, another long pause before Master Dleka answered. When she did, she rose swiftly as her voice reached Qui-Gon's ears.

"Come with me."

* * *

Qui-Gon casually looked around himself as Master Dleka led him through the explansive archives of the Jedi Temple. Books, datapads, and holo-videos of all sorts could be found here, and, even now, a whole arrangement of initiates, padawans, knights, and masters were scattered about the peaceful, semi-dark rooms, all silently studying, a document in hand. 

As the walked through a larger room, soft murmuring drew Qui-Gon's attention. Off in a corner, the crèche master, Liam Nafeel, had a young human child snuggled up close to his chest, and had his large arms wrapped around the small being to hold a worn, thin book infront of them both. He softly read to the child, who was completely engrossed in the story. As they passed by, the small boy let out a joyous, musical laugh.

Liam bore a great similarity to Qui-Gon, both in his physical stature and his fondness for all living, but Liam had shorter hair, green eyes, and his skin was an even olive. After nodding a greeting to the smiling master, Qui-Gon considered how much the small boy reminded him of Obi-Wan. The same petiteness about him, the same innocence, even the same eager sheen in his eyes. A picture suddenly came to Qui-Gon's mind – a picture of himself and a very young Obi-Wan in a position similar to that of the child and Master Nafeel. Qui-Gon shook himself out of it. What was he thinking? Obi-Wan was a teenager. And Qui-Gon would _not _spoil Obi-Wan like he had Xanatos. He had learned his lesson concerning that.

Shaking of his ponderings, Qui-Gon carried on behind Vianro. As they weaved through shelves upon tall shelves of material, the two masters were passers-by to the comings and goings, padawans three steps behind their masters, initiates hurriedly walking through the halls to study, and knights perusing through the shelves with silent interest.

Suddenly, Vianro pulled Qui-Gon off into a corridor, and lead him into a high-ceilinged room – the largest on they'd yet passed through. Qui-Gon soon recognized it as the hall of Jedi history. Everything having to do with the Jedi, the Order, and their history could be found here.

But, even with such a wonderful, peaceful place, Qui-Gon still didn't have answers.

"Vianro, I still don't see why you're taking me-"

She promptly shushed him with a light elbow to the stomach, and carried on gracefully down the room's length. They soon came to a section of lower shelves, the height that a young initiate could easily reach with still growing limbs. At the end of one of the shelves, a large poster was pinned to the dark wood.

Upon closer inspection, Qui-Gon saw that it was a hand-drawn, black and white drawing. It was a breath-takingly intricate image of the Jedi-Temple. It viewed the northwest corner, and with soft rays of sun highlighting the ancient pillars of stone, it was definitely a majestic sight. All around, tiny beings of all kinds went about their normal, Coruscanti hustle and bustle throughout the city, the ground traffic flooding about under the single-file lines of skycars and transports.

It was strange, looking at this drawing. It was clearly simple grey pencil on paper, but the way in which the artist carefully shaded even the most miniscule places was… Amazing. It was as if, by using such detailed artistry, the artist was coloring the picture, even though it was still physically grey. Qui-Gon tilted his head ever so slightly. Colored grey. It was a strange concept that sounded completely ridiculous, but, here it was, staring him in the face.

Qui-Gon could have studied the piece for hours, spying every detail engraved so finely with grey pencil into white paper. But, breaking into his silent intrigue, Vianro came up behind him.

"Well?" She asked, once again gauging his reaction. Qui-Gon fought against a frown.

"Well What?"

Vianro would have smacked his ignorant, long-haired head, had she not been taught propriety. "Force sakes, Qui-Gon! Have you such short a memory span? You must be getting older than I thought! _This _is the work I was talking about!" She motioned to the picture. "_This _is what I thought that you would surely know about!"

Revelation dawned. Qui-Gon whipped his head back around to lock his eyes on the drawing._ Obi-Wan _drew this?!

For a long, heart-pounding moment of awe, Qui-Gon lost any control he had over his speech. Several moments later, when he could speak, Qui-Gon turned back to face master Dleka.

"What?" He asked, half in awe, half unbelieving. "You're telling me that _Obi-Wan_ drew this?"

Vianro nodded. "Yes."

There was a pause.

"No. That's impossible." Qui-Gon replied in disbelief. Obi-Wan, the saber-swinging, action-loving, bright-eyed, eager-to-learn, always-on-the-move, energetic padawan of his surely wouldn't _draw_of all things. Qui-Gon's brow furrowed as he glanced back at the piece. Would he?

Not that drawing was at all bad – this was a magnificent piece. But it just didn't seem… Expected.

"It is not only possible, Qui-Gon, it _is_. Look close at the roadway bordering the west side of the temple." Vianro said, nodding toward the artwork.

Qui-Gon followed the given directions, and soon found what, at first glance, appeared to be a small squiggle in the smooth road, but, upon closer inspection, was a signature. Qui-Gon carefully read and re-read the signed name:_ 'O. W. Kenobi'._

Again, Qui-Gon couldn't speak. Vianro kept her quiet, and left the room quietly, leaving Qui-Gon to study soft strokes of colored grey.

* * *

Well! Chapter 1 of yet ANOTHER new story. I really didn't intend this to be a multi-chapter story, but, here we are. Another oneshot spinning off into something bigger. But, it won't be very long. Perhaps four or five chapters. Anyway, hope you've enjoyed it so far:D 

Please review!

-Elfpen


	2. A Friend, A Discovery

A/N: AHHHHH! I know, I know I said I would update sooner. I'm soooooo sorry! (That especially goes for you, Pharaohess! Sorry, dear!)

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With a light-heated mood, Obi-Wan practially skipped into his quarters. This, of all days, was a good day. His classes had gone well, his grades were high, he was feeling great, and, he had a visit with a friend to look forward to.

But as he stepped foot into the small apartment, his smile faded slightly. Qui-Gon, his master, was seated on one of the armchairs in the living area, a troubled look on his face. Obi-Wan greeted him as he passed to his room, but Qui-Gon didn't answer, but instead looked at Obi-Wan, long and hard, as if he were suspicious. Confused, and not wanting to bother Qui-Gon, who was obviously deep in thought, Obi-Wan quietly passed by and into his bed room. He didn't know what was bothering his master, but he wouldn't let that bring him down.

After shutting his door, he opened up the drawer to his desk. He then pulled out a thick, slightly messy folder. He leafed through the contents until he came to a page-protected sketch. He quickly pulled it out, checking the wall-chrono as he did so. A smile spread across his face as he looked over the piece of paper in his hands. He then slipped it into his robe, and left, unaware that he had left his folder laying open on his desk.

-------

Qui-Gon barely noticed as his apprentice walked back out of their quarters without explanation. He had other things to think about. The drawing that he had seen earlier that day still captivated his mind. He was still trying to figure out whether he believed it or not. Did Obi-Wan _really _draw that? Why didn't he let Qui-Gon know? Where in the name of the Force did his padawan learn how to draw so well? As questions flew through his head, the sound of beeping filled his ears. In a very uncharacteristic, startled way, Qui-Gon looked over to Obi-Wan's door, where the sound was coming from.

As he stepped into the doorway, his head nearly became part in a miniature speeder crash, as one of one of Obi-Wan's flying ship models whizzed passed his eyebrows, a hair of space to spare.

Now more cautious to where he placed his head, Qui-Gon stepped lightly over to the bedside table, where a beeping comlink sat. The Master smiled fondly as he rolled his eyes, despite his mood. Why did that boy _always_ forget his comm? After checking to see who was calling, Qui-Gon turned the small silver object off and laid it back down. Just as he was about to leave the room, something caught his eye.

On the desk, lay an open folder, different sized articles of paper falling out this way and that. The presence of a folder in a hard-working padawan's room didn't surprise him, but what _did _surprise him was what the contents of the folder was.

In all shades of grey and black, were drawings.

-------

With a happy smirk on his face, Obi-Wan quietly snuck through the Jedi Archives. His right hand hovered over his left side, where his sketch was concealed under his cloak. He nodded to a few masters he was acquainted with, and said 'hello' to his padawan friends. But as he headed further and further back into the expansive rooms, the less people he saw. And, when he came to a small office door in particular, he, quietly as possible, opened the door. He dropped into a chrouch near the floor as he snuck across the room, his sharp mind bent on ambush. He took a few more hurried steps, and carefully masked his presence with the Force. His prey now in sight, Obi-Wan's mind ticked off a countdown.

A few more steps… Closer… Closer…

"Ha!" He cried triumphantly, pouncing from his position to seize his victim around the shoulders. The rather surprised man under attack was a good four or five inches taller than Obi-Wan, but this didn't stop him from effectively securing his shoulders in a half-tackle.

Just as triumph set in, Obi-Wan found himself thrown to the ground, with his back to the floor, an old metal letter opener pointed menacingly at his face.

"Kenobi, for the love of the Force, how many times have you been told to respect your elders?!" The man inquired, his aged face stern. Obi-Wan's smile quickly disappeared, a look of surprise and slight fear coming to replace it. "If you had been any shorter, you would've likely choked me!" At this, Obi-Wan lowered his head, looking down. "And, Force help me, I want you to…" The man's voice stopped abruptly, and Obi-Wan looked up in confusion. The man suddenly broke out into a laugh before continuing. "I want you to tell me where in the galaxy you learned to mask yourself so well." The master laughed again, putting away his letter opener. "I had you good, lad! You should've seen your face!" He reached out a hand, and Obi-Wan took it, smiling ruefully as he was hoisted to his feet.

No sooner was he standing upright than was he locked in a firm, friendly embrace.

"Good to see you again, Obi!" The elder man said, a slight accent decorating his voice.

"Good to see you too, Master Terius." Obi-Wan replied, returning the hug. Master Terius pulled away, an eyebrow cocked over a glaring eye. "I mean Kin." Obi-Wan corrected himself, and Kin nodded with a smile.

"Better. So! What brings such a spry young chap like yourself down here to see and old, dusty hermit like myself?" Kin asked, motioning to a chair as he sat down.

"Well," Obi-Wan started as he sat, "I brought something for you, Master Ter… Kin."

In reality, Kin's name was Kin-Wan. He was the head archivist of the Jedi Temple, and dispite his old age, was one of the most youthful people Obi-Wan knew. He almost always had a smile on his face, and a word on his lips to cheer someone up. Obi-Wan had met Kin-Wan when he was a young initiate, fresh out of the crèche. He had gotten lost in the archives, and had stumbled upon Kin-Wan's office.

After introduction, the two became quick friends, and had taken to shortening the other's name to 'Kin' or 'Obi', making an inside joke out of the fact that their names both ended in 'Wan'. After a few times, it almost became a ritual.

Now, in his messy, slightly dusty office, Kin-Wan was completely at home as he reached for a glass of water. "Oh?" He asked, curious.

Obi-Wan carefully pulled out his sketch, presenting it to the master. Kin-Wan took it and looked it over, smiling.

"Oh my! I… Thank you, Obi-Wan!" Kin-Wan studied the drawing carefully. "It does look like the two of them, doesn't it?" The master observed, still smiling. He then handed it back to Obi-Wan.

"No, no, it's yours." Obi-Wan insisted, extending it back to Kin-Wan.

"Oh," Kin-Wan laughed. "Well, thank you, lad! But if you're going to give it to me, I would advise you do so at another time. I'll lose it in here!" He explained, motioning to the heaps of papers, and books, all along with their layer of dust. "I'll tell you what – I'll come and find you at evening meal, and you can give it to me then, alright?" Obi-Wan nodded in agreement, placing the sketch back to it's place in his robe. Kin-Wan leaned back in his chair.

"So, how has the world been to you lately, lad?" He asked, taking a sip of water. Obi-Wan shrugged.

"Nothing much… Classes are fine… My probation is finally over… I haven't been to the healers for a while, so… I'm good."

"Good, good…" Kin-Wan said, pausing. "How's your master, Qui-Gon?"

Obi-Wan's brow furrowed. "I don't really know. He's been… Odd, lately." Kin-Wan looked at him curiously.

"Odd? Since when? 

"Well… This morning, I suppose. I walked in and greeted him, like I normally do, and he didn't say anything. He just stared at me… It was a bit frightening, really. I don't know what's bothering him." A worried look crossed Obi-Wan's face. "I hope it's not me."

"Well, did you ask?"

"Well, no… I didn't think I should. He seemed like he didn't want to be bothered. I didn't want to upset him."

"I see…" Kin-Wan said, putting a hand to his slightly bearded chin as his mind went back to what he had seen earlier that morning. He bit the inside of his lip, glancing at the young padawan in front of him. "I think you should go and talk to him, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan frowned slightly in confusion. "Now?"

"Yes."

Obi-Wan slowly nodded, eying Master Terius. "Well… I'll see you later, then…" Obi-Wan rose, quietly leaving the office, wondering with a frown what could be the matter.

--------

Qui-Gon, curious, carefully picked up the folder. A few things fell out as he did so, but he ignored them for the time being. He leafed through the contents slowly, his shock growing with each new piece.

Each piece of paper, big or small, was covered in an intricate drawing. Whether it be a person, a place, or a simple object. And, on every drawing was the same signature, _'O. W. Kenobi'. _Qui-Gon felt his jaw go slightly slack as he studied every piece of artwork.

He still couldn't believe what he was seeing. These beautiful, intricate, breath-takingly moving pieces of art were created by his padawan. They had his name on them. Slowly, he placed the folder back on the desk. It was then that he noticed the other pieces of paper. He picked them up, one at a time. They were each drawings, each with the same intricacy and precision he had seen on the rest of them. When Qui-Gon came to the last, largest drawing, his heart leapt into his throat.

The picture was a portrait. In front of a lightly shaded background, was himself, with Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon's grey-shaded hand rested on Obi-Wan's right shoulder, and a smiling Obi-Wan was leaning lightly against him. But, even as heart-wrenching the sight would have been to Qui-Gon, had he thought about it much, the scene itself wasn't the the thing that brought tears to his eyes.

He was smiling. Qui-Gon's picture double was smiling. And not only that, but he was smiling a real smile, a smile that he hadn't worn in over eleven years. Two tears tracked down his cheeks silently, and he once again spotted Obi-Wan's signature near the bottom of the page. He looked back at the scene. Its realism was only out done by it's heart-wrenching tease of what could be. But no, Qui-Gon thought. The man in that picture wasn't him. It could never be him.

Could it?

Qui-Gon let the drawing slip from his limp fingers as he sank back onto the edge of the bed. Besides the almost imperceptible tick of the wall-chrono, it was completely silent. But that intense silence was broken with a hiss as the door slid open.

It was Obi-Wan.

----

Ooooh… What will happen?! I'm the author, and I'm on the edge of my seat! (sad, isn't it?)


	3. The Gift of a Smile

Oh my gosh! I'm actually… drumroll… Updating this story! Now that I have over thirty people watching for updates, I am finally updating. I'm truly sorry for the long wait. I wasn't being brilliantly inspired… But I pieced together this chapter. Hope y'all like it.

-Elfpen

* * *

As Obi-Wan walked in the door, he stopped for a moment when he saw his master, and completely froze when he saw what was sitting _in front_ of his master. His mind put the pieces of the scenario together, and his face paled several shades, the only real color left being his widened blue eyes. 

Obi-Wan's first thought was to run; to go back to Kin-Wan's office and hide. But he found, with a bit of shock, that he couldn't run. Not that he didn't _want _to run, but that he _couldn't _run. It was a physical impossibility – his body was frozen. He didn't dare move a single muscle. Obi-Wan wasn't even sure if he was breathing; though he barely contemplated it. Rather, he stood, staring at the scene before him, disbelieving.

Had he looked closer, he would have seen the light blush on his master's cheeks, and the small tears that Qui-Gon was trying to discreetly wipe away.

"M-Master…" He said in a small voice. Stiffly, and in a light-headed way, Obi-Wan stepped forward and quickly gathered up the drawings, then replaced them in the folder that sat on the desk. "I… I didn't expect you…" He made a noise in his throat. "You surprised me." Obi-Wan was still fumbling with several pages, and one fell of the side of the desk. With Jedi reflexes, Qui-Gon reached out and caught it before it fluttered to the ground. He looked at it quickly, recognizing the sketch as the great stairway of the Jedi Temple. He mentally shook his head. How could he not have known about this? Gently, he put his hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder and turned the boy around to face him. Obi-Wan's wide eyes were downcast, avoiding Qui-Gon's gaze.

"Obi-Wan..." Qui-Gon started quietly. He really didn't know what he wanted to say, much less what he _should _say. In a way quite unbecoming of a Jedi master, he blurted out the first question that came to mind. "How... How long have you been drawing, Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon asked, trying to make his voice as gentle as possible. He didn't need the Force to deduct that this was a touchy subject – one that was supposed to be a secret.

Every muscle in Obi-Wan's body was as tight as a wire, and his heart hammered fiercely in his chest. For a moment, the young Jedi feared that the thumping would be audible even to Qui-Gon, with the way it was echoing in his own ears. Slowly catching up to reality, his brain processed the question Qui-Gon had thrown him. Without reassurance, though, it had not caught the quiet, careful tone in which it was spoken.

"Se-Seven years, Master." Obi-Wan stuttered quietly. Qui-Gon's hand still rest on Obi-Wan's tense shoulder, and the teen's frightened eyes were still downcast.

Qui-Gon had to raise his eyebrows. His apprentice was a good secret-keeper, if he had been drawing for seven years. No wonder his portfolio had grown so large. Off-handedly, he wondered if Obi-Wan had any more secrets... But, he would worry about that later. Right now he needed to figure out what in the name of the Force he should say next.

"Obi-Wan..." He started, still not knowing exactly where he was going, "Why didn't you tell me?" Qui-Gon asked, honestly and truly perplexed.

Obi-Wan gulped, and raised his pale face slightly, but not to meet his master's eyes.

"I... Thought that you would think it was... Hindering to my training, sir."

Qui-Gon's brow furrowed. First of all, since when was he 'sir' to his own apprentice? And where did Obi-Wan get the idea that he would have considered art 'hindering'?

"...'Hindering', Obi-Wan?"

"Yes, Master... I... I thought you would have thought it a waste of time. I thought that you would make me stop..." As Obi-Wan rambled on, Qui-Gon's mind zoned out into his own thoughts. Part of him was compelling him to go down the track he was leading – to gently coax the boy that his gift for art was perfectly fine, that it was a gift, not a hindrance. But, each time he considered this road, the sketch popped into his mind, and all coherent thoughts were mixed into a jumble of questions. Why did Obi-Wan draw it? When did he draw it? Did he intend to show it to Qui-Gon, at all? And, perhaps the most pitiful question of all – how did Obi-Wan know what Qui-Gon's smile looked like? Really, the Jedi master was mortified that he even had reason to ask himself this, but it was sadly, and pitifully true.

For a few seconds, Qui-Gon's mind came back to the present, and he vaguely registered Obi-Wan studying his face with caution. When he met the boy's eyes, however, the blue/green orbs quickly darted away. But, just as quickly as before, Qui-Gon's mind wandered off into it's own confines. Without thinking, he looked down at the drawing of himself and Obi-Wan, which was lying on the floor. Obi-Wan followed his gaze. His heart leaped. With surprise, and quickly, Obi-Wan knelt down and picked it up. As he drew it away from Qui-Gon's gaze, Qui-Gon gently caught the edge of the paper, and Obi-Wan stopped tugging, so as not to rip it. The apprentice tensely held his breath

Qui-Gon silently studied the drawing for what seemed, to Obi-Wan, at least, hours. As he did so, a sad frown slowly knit it's way into his brow.

"Obi-Wan, I..." Qui-Gon started. He paused. "I don't know..." He was going to continue, but it was then that he looked up at the boy. He was pale, wide-eyed, and apprehensively holding his breath. Qui-Gon could sense how much he was have to draw on the Force to control himself. With one hand, Qui-Gon pried Obi-Wan's fingers off of the page. He set it down to the side. He stood, and quickly, but gently, pulled his apprentice into his embrace.

* * *

Obi-Wan stiffened. His mind was running in slow-motion, and he wasn't sure he was properly understanding the situation. As it seemed, his master was hugging him, and Obi-Wan's face was up againstthe big Jedi's chest. But, then again, Obi-Wan wasn't sure if he trusted his senses right about now. Qui-Gon was supposed to be disappointed – offended that his padawan would waste precious time on drawing. Any minute now, he would be on the receiving end of a lecture. Any minute now, he would get to listen to Qui-Gon's disappointment...

* * *

Qui-Gon sighed inwardly, berating himself for terrifying his padawan so. He closed his eyes. That drawing. It tortured him, showing him a horrible, unreal glimpse of who he used to be, but would never be. He wanted to confront Obi-Wan about it, to ask him why he drew it, but... It would be too much for the boy. He was already scared out of his wits as it was – dear Force, he could feel the boy shaking! Because of his own master! A mound of guilt fell upon Qui-Gon. Oh, if only this situation was different. If only.

* * *

Obi-Wan shivered. He tried to suppress it, but he couldn't. He mentally cursed, knowing that Qui-Gon undoubtedly knew the fact that was running through his own mind right now – humans only shivered for one of three reasons. They were either cold, exited, or scared out of their minds. And, in Obi-Wan's case, he was most definitely not cold, as warm as it was in this room, and he wasn't exactly exited about having one of his biggest secrets revealed. This left only one other option – he had to be terrified. 

And terrified he was; scared out of his mind, to be exact. Obi-Wan had always thought that, if he ever became this frightened, it would be because of a horrible catastrophe, or because of something truly horrible. Never before had he thought that he would be this scared of his _master_! Yes, Qui-Gon could be a bit intimidating, but nothing to be _terrified _about.

Obi-Wan shivered again. Force help him, this was torture.

* * *

Qui-Gon's heart fell to about ten stories underground as he felt another tremor wrack Obi-Wan's body. Obi-Wan was losing control and focus, and his shields were weak. He could tell how frustrated he was, and could almost hear the boy berating himself. Qui-Gon closed his eyes and shook his head, ever so slightly. _Insecure_. Vianro's words echoed in his head. _You blind old fool! Look what you've done to him! _A small voice entered Qui-Gon's head. Not the Force, but his guilty conscience. _Next thing you know, he'll be crying, for Force's sake! And you had to have someone else tell you that he was insecure. A teacher that sees him a whopping five hours a week! And yet you, the great-perceiving, living-Force conscious, great Master Qui-Gon Jinn can't even tell that your own padawan is practically screaming for help! One might think that you-_

_-I get it!-_ Qui-Gon mentally screamed at the annoying voice. His heart fell another ten stories. He felt Obi-Wan shake again, slightly harder. He realized that, as he listened to his annoying conscience, he had tightened his iron grip on the boy's shoulders. He eased the tendons in his hands, but Obi-Wan stayed tense. _-Sweet Force, __**now**__ what?!- _The Jedi asked himself hopelessly.

Out of no where, another voice popped into his head. It had an uncanny resemblance to Tahl's voice.

"_Well,"_ it said, _"Talk to him, you big oaf! Ask him about the sketch! You're making it worse by dragging it out. Now. Open your mouth..." _ The sweet, slightly berating voice coaxed him. Briefly, the big jedi wondered if the Force's persuasive voice sounded anything like Tahl's. Doing as the voice instructed, he opened his mouth to speak.

"Obi-Wan," He started. The words came out sharp, and more harsh than he had intended them to be. The encouraging voice reappeared.

"_Gently."_It corrected him, its voice carrying the gentle tone it wished of him.

"Padawan," Qui-Gon said, this time quieter, his voice not bearing the same sharp edge. "Please look at me." He asked. When Obi-Wan's eyes stayed riveted to the floor, Qui-Gon reached out and tilted Obi-Wan's head up. His aqua-marine eyes were wide, and he could sense the valiant fight the teen was putting up to bring up his shields. Qui-Gon almost smiled.

Almost.

"Obi-Wan..." He reached over and picked up the drawing. After glancing at it, he handed it respectfully to its artist. "When did you do this?" He asked, his normally stoic face bending itself into a genuine expression.

Obi-Wan gulped. Oh, Force he had feared that question for so long. He stuttered as he spoke. "A-After... After Mel..." He paused for a second, as if weighing the words he was about to speak. "Melida/Daan, Master." He finished, his voice quiet.

Qui-Gon nodded slowly, simply. Understanding slowly came upon him. The boy truly did regret what he had done... He obviously cared about Qui-Gon, even through Melida/Daan... Qui-Gon's heart fell yet another ten stories. ...Even when Qui-Gon didn't care about _him_.

"How long did it take you, Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon asked quietly, barely able to keep his voice from cracking.

"I... I just finished it yesterday, master." Obi-Wan said. There was a strange kind of guilt in his tone, and, though his head was slightly turned up, he was still avoiding Qui-Gon's eyes at all costs.

"What did you base it on, Obi-Wan?"

Obi-Wan froze. He sucked in a slow, silent breath, and closed his eyes. "There... Isn't really a base, Master..." He sighed quietly. "Just me and my imagination."

Qui-Gon nodded. His Jedi mask could barely hide the emotion on his face. "It looks very real, you know." Qui-Gon said simply. Obi-Wan's head ducked, and he didn't respond. There was a long pause, where neither spoke. Obi-Wan could hear his heart thumping in his chest again. Qui-Gon could hear that annoying Tahl-ish voice inside his head again.

"Obi-Wan..." Qui-Gon started. Obi-Wan held his breath, preparing for whatever wave came next. "How... How did you know what my smile looked like?" He asked. Obi-Wan couldn't help but glance up slightly. It was an odd question, but spoken with honest curiosity.

"Master?" He asked, confused.

"How often do I smile, Padawan?" Qui-Gon asked, a sad twinge to his voice.

Obi-Wan blushed, and glanced downward. "Not much, master. Not at all, really."

Qui-Gon's face didn't move, and his brows drew together slowly. "Then... How did you know?"

Obi-Wan took another breath. "I... I didn't, really, master." Obi-Wan explained, his voice quiet. "Like I said; It's just me and my imagination."

Qui-Gon nodded. His curiosity was quenched. Gently and slowly, he took the drawing back out of Obi-Wan's hands.

"Obi-Wan, do you know.." He paused, casting a glance at the boy. He could sense the shields in the boy's mind, preparing for the coming reprimand. Qui-Gon couldn't help but smile; for the first time in eleven years. He touched his Padawan's clefted chin, and raised it. Obi-Wan's blue/green eyes registered surprise when they saw Qui-Gon's smile. This only made that smile broaden fondly. As he leaned forward to speak, Qui-Gon's voice wasn't above a whisper. "Do you know how much this means to me?" Qui-Gon said. Obi-Wan's face contorted into an innocent kind of confusion. "Do you know what you did for me, Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon asked, still whispering; still smiling. Obi-Wan responded with a deeper furrow in his confused brow. The Jedi master sighed, and he could somehow sense a Tahl-like face somewhere in his mind, beaming. Qui-Gon's lips quirked up again; he couldn't help it. He touched Obi-Wan on the shoulder, looked him in the eye, and then drew him in a gentle embrace as the joyful tears welled up.

"You gave me my smile back."

* * *

OMG! I actually did it! I was so afraid this thing would never get done! ACK! I hope it lives up to y'all's expectations. It was different than planned, a lot shorter than I wanted, and I'm _really_nervous as to what y'all will think, but... Enjoy! I really, really, _really_ hope you enjoy it enough to review! 

Again so, so, so, so, so, so, _SOOO _sorry for the enormous wait! Please don't stay too mad at me. Hope the whole Tahl-voice made sense. It isn't actually Tahl, but... I just thought of Tahl when I wrote it, so I mentioned her. Lol, I hope that explanation made sense, too.

**NOTE: I _think _I might one or two more chapters to this. But, I want your opinion. Should they be more thoughtful chapters? A follow-up? Do y'all want to see it go back around to Kin-Wan and his knowing ways? Let me know what you think.**


	4. By Strokes of Colored Grey

A/N: Yay! Epilogue is up! Well, this may sound really ridiculous, but this is the first story (multi-chapter, at any rate) that I've ever finished. Yes, only four chapters, but... I'm happy!

* * *

In the days that followed, whispers traveled around the temple – Master Jinn was smiling again! Word had it that he was even laughing! No one was quite sure if it was true or not, and many Jedi around the Temple were trying to discretely catch a glimpse of the master with a grin on his face. Tahl, for instance, was setting a deliberate walk for Jinn's quarters. It may be nearly midnight, and she may be blind, but her stride was quick and exact. Rounding corners and boarding lifts, she eventually came to the master's doorstep.

She knocked quietly on the door, knowing that it was quite late to be having visitors. But she knew Qui-Gon; he would answer at any hour. Sure enough, the door slid open with a hiss a few seconds later, and Tahl could feel Qui-Gon's strong presence in front of her.

"Tahl?" She heard him say quietly. "Back from Corellia already?" His voice was slightly surprised, but pleasantly so. Pleasant. Tahl hadn't associated that particular emotion with Qui-Gon in a while. Perhaps the rumors were true.

"Rumor has it," She started, "that the great master Jinn has undergone an overnight transformation." She paused, to gage his reaction. She sensed nothing but acceptance from the man. She smiled friendly. "I came to see for myself.

"Come in." Qui-Gon said, stepping aside so that Tahl could step in. 

"So?" She asked, "Is it true?"

"Is what true?" Qui-Gon replied. Tahl could tell that he was stalling.

"Is Qui-Gon Jinn actually smiling again?" She asked, quietly.

"Oh." He said. "That." Tahl held her breath. Was it just her imagination, or did that sound like a smile in his voice? There was a long, suspenseful pause, before Tahl could sense a ripple in the Force - like he was laughing. "Yes, it is true." He finished. Tahl knew he was beaming now. She could have sworn that she felt something like tears forming in her sightless eyes. Whatever it was, her friend must have seen it, because he stepped forward and wrapped her in his embrace, childish joy radiating off of his being. Tahl smiled and closed her eyes. She had so hoped it was true. And it was.

Albeit a bit awkwardly, Tahl returned Qui-Gon's huge embrace. "Care to explain?" She asked, letting her hand rest on his cheek, which she could feel was turned up in a grin. It was the closest to seeing him smile she would ever get.

"Well," Qui-Gon started, "I suppose you can thank a certain young boy, when he wakes."

"Obi-Wan?" She asked, surprised as she pulled back.

"Mmmhmm." He said, leading Tahl over to the couch in the dark living area to sit. "You see, it all started when his teacher, Vianro Dleka, found me in the halls..." With that, Qui-Gon retold the story of the past few days; how Vianro had unknowingly revealed one of Obi-Wan's secrets, how he had found the sketch in Obi-Wan's room, and how deeply the boy and his work had effected his master.

After he was done, there was a long, comfortable silence between the two friends.

"Remind me to hug the life out of that boy later." Tahl said wistfully. Qui-Gon chuckled quietly. 

"I'm not sure if I'll let you kill him, but I'll definitely let you hug him." He smiled. "He's still being very shy about his work, though. Apparently, not even Bant knows." Tahl raised her eyebrows. "He showed me some of it earlier," Qui-Gon continued, "I wish you could see it, Tahl, he's an amazing artist. He drew a picture of you, actually." Qui-Gon glanced down at her. Tahl's eyebrows rose.

"Really?"

Qui-Gon nodded.

"He's a sweet boy." She said, leaning against Qui-Gon with a content sigh. "You're a lucky man, Jinn." She closed her eyes, as if to fall asleep.

"And don't I know it." Qui-Gon said quietly, more to himself than anyone else. "And not a moment too soon." Qui-Gon sat there for a moment, smiling down fondly at his half-asleep friend. "You helped me too, you know."

"Really?" Tahl inquired, her eyes still asleep, her voice slightly slurred.

"Yes," He said, "You were there in my head the whole time, giving me the truth when I need it most – whether I wanted to hear it or not." He leaned down to kiss her on the crown of her head. "Like you always do."

"Hmm..." She hummed with a sleepy smile, "Force only knows you need it, Jinn. I'm glad I could be of help to you." She paused, and seemed to fall deeper into sleep. "And I'm glad you're smiling again." After murmuring something about giving Obi-Wan the biggest hug in the galaxy, Tahl promptly fell asleep, her cheek pressed up against Qui-Gon's shoulder. With a light touch of the Force, Qui-Gon called a throw blanket to the couch, and pulled it over his friend. After a moment, he laid his cheek on her head and closed his eyes. He was glad too.

* * *

Kin-Wan Terius smirked happily as he caught sight of Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon in the archives together. They were currently standing in front of Obi-Wan's temple drawing; Qui-Gon was examining it carefully as Obi-Wan gestured to different elements of the piece. Kin-Wan could tell the padawan was explaining different techniques he had used in the drawing. The elderly master watching them couldn't keep the triumphant gleam out of his eyes. He had held Obi-Wan secrets for months – years, even. And now, after nearly a year of waiting for the right time, Kin-Wan had finally gotten it out of the boy, and his master finally knew. It was all a matter of time, the master mused to himself. When he had asked Vianro Dleka, a good friend, to help him with his plan, she had readily agreed. And now that their mission was complete, she had noted how much the boy's mood had changed. With a childish grin albeit one with quite a few wrinkles, Kin-Wan turned back into his office. It was all a matter of finding the right time for everyone.

"I still can't believe you and Master Dleka planned all of that." Sounded a teasing voice from the corner. Its owner was Luna Gorij, a former padawan to Master Terius. Kin-Wan simply smiled.

"Sometimes, young one, a Jedi must intervene; when necessary. This was one of those times." Kin-Wan slowly walked over to Luna, who had her nose in an old book, and put a hand on her shoulder. She shut the book and looked up fondly with her green eyes.

"You're nearly as bad as Master Jinn himself." She said, her dark brown hair swinging above her shoulders as she rose from her seat.

"Really?" Kin-Wan replied innocently, faking a shocked face. "I would never have thought so myself... Though I suppose you're right." His face broke into a smile. "We are a bit alike, I suppose. I'm just a bit less stubborn."

Luna snorted, and refrained from bursting out into laughter.

"And," Kin-Wan continued, "he hasn't gotten to see any grand-padawans yet." He wrapped and arm around Luna's shoulders. "I, on the other hand, have had that privilege." He paused. "Which reminds me – Obi-Wan gave me something that I think you'll like."

Kin-Wan left the room, and came back with a plastic-protected sheet of flimsy. He handed it to Luna. The younger woman took it, and a smile broke out onto her face. It was a drawing, one of herself and her own padawan, Kyaan. They were both filthy, and Kyaan was covered in mud. Luna's dark hair was a mess, and her robes ruined. But, they were both beaming largely. Kyaan's cheek was pressed to Luna's, as if so they would both fit into the picture, and their white teeth and crinkled eyes expressed the sheer joy they felt – even in their dirty state. Luna vaguely recalled the 'incident' in the gardens that had resulted in such a mess. She wasn't aware that Obi-Wan had been there.

"He drew this?" she asked. Her former master nodded with a grin. She looked back at the drawing. "That boy _is _good."

"That he is." Kin-Wan agreed. the master raised the blinds to his office slowly, and peeked out into the archives, where he could see Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan. Apparently, Qui-Gon had made some smart joke, and Obi-Wan was laughing, his face turned up in a joyous smile. Master Terius couldn't help but grin himself. It was wonderful to see Obi-Wan like this again. "And he will only get better."

* * *

In the following weeks, the change in both Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan was noticed happily among their close friends. Master Terius and Master Dleka were more than pleased that their efforts had paid off, and, of course, Tahl, Bant, Clee, and Garren were all more than happy. Bant had spent a whole afternoon with Obi-Wan, going through his sketches. Master Yoda even came to inspect the Padawan's work, and was quite flattered when he found several drawings of himself. The green Jedi was also more than pleased that Qui-Gon had finally learned to smile again.

As it turned out, Tahl did end up giving Obi-Wan one of the biggest, warmest, bone-crushing thank-you-est hugs in the galaxy, and Obi-Wan, in turn, blushed like a sun-burnt Galatian. Qui-Gon spent several hours in helping Tahl 'see' his work, thanks in part to his way with words, and it part to the special bond the two shared.

Obi-Wan let Qui-Gon look through his entire portfolio, which was of no small size, and took his master through the art he drew from the time when he was a young initiate, up through his still-going apprenticeship. The drawings became a strange sort of bond between master and apprentice, giving Obi-Wan a chance to share his emotions with his master without actually speaking. It soon became a tradition; after every return from a mission, Qui-Gon would sit on the couch, a cup of tea in his hand, and Obi-Wan would sit nearby, paper and pencil put to work. Just as Kin-Wan had said, his drawings improved greatly, and, more and more often, included a smiling Master Jinn; though the open expression of joy was hardly a fantasy anymore. 

In months and years to come, even after many padawans and initiates had come and gone, the sketch of the Jedi temple hung in the archives proudly, only growing in beauty with age. Many a young Jedi would be inspired by its majesty, and even more Jedi would search for a signature, wishing to know the name of the skilled artist. Master Dleka and Master Terius, though, would only smile knowingly, and point to the west-bound road.

But, the most beloved drawing of all, though not publicly seen, would have a special meaning for Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan for years to come. It was a symbol of the bond shared by the Master and Apprentice, even in the darkest of times. As the years of their time together wore on, the artwork, though aging in years, grew stronger in significance. Though seemingly simple, it signified something much more important than its simple brown wood frame portrayed, hung humbly on the wall of the Jinn/Kenobi residence. The portrait was simply drawn, in varying shades of gray and ebony, and simply portrayed; a smiling master, a happy apprentice, sharing a loving embrace. And, just underneath the carefully stationed picture, was tiny plate bearing a title: _By Strokes of Colored Grey._

_finis_

* * *

A/N: Hope y'all liked it! My very first story to finish... I am quite happy. Please review!


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